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The changing season carries a chilly wind. From the many thriving lands of Da Xian, to its flourishing capital, people accompany the incoming winter with their bustling.

In this kind of temperature, bodies of water in the palace are unconsciously avoided in fear of 'accidents'. 

Especially the Imperial Lake, which held the highest record of who knows how many consorts falling in and bodies floating.

Still, there are ones whose problem is that they are attracted to these red flags.

Such as the young prince that insisted on playing at the lake pavilion. Being fished out from the lake once did not earn him a lesson. 

With his chin on the table and feet swaying, Jiang Chen ignored the table full of childish pastries.

"Are these not to his highness' likings?" Feng Lei asked, her eyes twitching and teeth gritting, trying her best to rail in her temper.